


One Day More

by purplekitte



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Friendship, Gen, Siblings, at least I have hundreds of AUs to fall back on, most of these people probably die horribly, slice-of-life, some people are happily married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short, unrelated snippets from the Horus Heresy, mostly about OCs and daily life.</p><p>(Warnings: canon-typical violence and off-screen or alluded to really screwed up things going on (I don’t feel like going through and picking out every little thing worth warning for))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Silent Sister has a conversation with Leman Russ on the way to Prospero.

Mahina liked the wolves.

It made the men laugh, when the wolves barrelled her over, and comment how they could take off more than her head in a bite if they hadn’t been ordered not to. They took jesting bets on how far down her chest the teeth would go in the first bite before she was gobbled up. Even compared to her sisters, she was the only one who had to wear her powersword across her back rather than at a hip lest it drag on the ground.

Mahina didn’t care much for men. Her sisters did not jest, but they thought little of her when there were no combat drills or chores for her. She was the least and youngest among them to have taken vows, drab as a sparrow among firebirds and as out of place for it. At least she had the wolves.

Mahina crept through the _Hrafnkel_ like a shadow. At least she wasn’t half deaf like the Chapter-serfs who chattered so and never _listened_. She could hear voices or footsteps or servo-motors from ages away and avoid them down other corridors of the ship. Schedules were varied so there would always be crew, but for most people it was late ship’s night.

It wasn’t like she was doing anything forbidden either. Her Oblivion Knight had said not to get in anyone’s way and not to go near the navigators or astropathic choir. The Astartes had told the Sisters which areas were off-limits without personal invitation, but these were public training-cages. The Wolves of Fenris disapproved on principle of such sterile things, but they needed spaces for fighting among themselves when real war did not present itself and she did not know what else to call them.

It wouldn’t be in use or anything, Mahina reassured herself. Brother Freistin had been complaining last month about how Asny would of course choose somewhere so inconvenient for her den, but who could argue with a she-wolf in such a mood? The jaunt of Riki’s tail had told her Asny was finally letting him close to her pups only now, even though he was her mate, and Mahina had waited three more days just in case.

Mahina opened the door slowly to let Asny get a good look and sniff at her. The wolf didn’t bark or growl to tell her to go away as she hung in the doorway, so she eventually closed it behind her. It smelled very strongly of unhousebroken wolf and dander was everywhere.

From there, glad no one else was watching, she approached the massive wolf on her hands and knees. She kept her head low and shoulders slumped to look as submissive and nonthreatening as possible. She wished she could chuff in the back of her throat and whine to emphasise this further, but of course she did not.

Asny flicked an ear when she got nearby, inviting her to approach her, carefully, and Mahina had to fight very hard to give no indication she noticed the grey balls of fur in the corner of her eye when she wanted to stare at them.

Mahina approached with her belly low to the ground and nosed at the underside of Asny’s jaw. The smell was almost overwhelming, but it figured she hadn’t left her den for long enough to take a real bath in one of the tubs that were practically indoor lakes even though they were usually fastidious animals.

Asny sniffed her, her breath hot against her face, and considered her, then started licking her dirty-blonde hair and tattooed brow with a huge wet tongue. _Pack,_ her body language said. _Yearling pup from a previous litter not dispersed yet. Nursemaid._

Mahina could hardly contain her glee as she turned her attention to the puppies, signing a flood of words to Asny as best she could with her hands mostly occupied with furious petting. The wolf wouldn’t actually understand her words, but it was obvious that when their Space Marine brothers spoke to them it was by hand signal and body language with a word here or there only for emphasis. Who needed to speak aloud to speak and who needed words to have meaning?

:They’re so big, Asny! They look tiny next to you, but they must be fifty kilos each already. And three of them! I thought they’d be darker like you, but they only have their undercoats, and I guess it’s your outercoat that’s black. They don’t even have that hump on their necks and shoulders to show they’re Blackmanes, I guess because they’re growing too fast to be putting away fat stores. Oh, they’re so cute and fluffy! Are you teaching them to hunt rats? They don’t even have teeth yet, do they? Their eyes are all blue. How long does it take to grow out of that?:

The three puppies romped with her gladly, pouncing and tugging and tripping over their oversized feet. She would get assigned much atonement by the Vigilator for the state of her tunic if nothing else, but she’d known that all along.

Worn out, Mahina flopped on the ground, only to be nosed against Asny’s side by the mother wolf and nosed this way and that by puppies trying to nurse.

She didn’t think she would fall asleep, but she must have. The puppies were asleep, Asny was watching something, and Mahina blinked back her half-asleep half-awake haze full of dreams where someone had been weeping, sobbing, muttering words she couldn’t quite make out.

She saw the blood on the deck first. For a moment she wondered if someone had come by to leave meat by the door and Asny had dragged it back to her favourite corner, but that was wrong.

This was not a random blood spatter like one might leave in training or might drip from a haunch. It was a purposeful pattern, though not one that meant anything to her.

She bent to study it. It was still wet but clotted and congealed. She wiped her fingers on her shirt, reminding herself that touching strange substances was unhygienic and stupid.

The second thing Mahina realised was that she and Asny were not alone. Freistin, Asny’s companion? Surely this must be an Astartes from his bulk.

As he unfolded himself from the shadow, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the scale of what she was seeing and realise her mistake.

Mahina was on one knee on the bulkhead before it occurred to her that she didn’t remember a word of the lecture the Vigilator had given about the political complications of who bowed to whom and who was an independent contractor and whatnot. Better to be polite. She got no respect from anyone; the younger novices were supposed to defer to her as a full sister, but she was too recently one of them and they were jealous she’d have the chance to go witch-hunting on Prospero while they were left behind with the fleet.

Still, she couldn’t help but study Leman Russ through her lashes. He was a giant of a man and she quite liked the idea of fighting beside him, but she didn’t feel any of the supernatural awe others acted like one was supposed to. Not surprising, considering that hadn’t been a hyperbole and it was hardly a secret, though it was considered rude to bring up.

It would also be rude to mention his eyes were redder than his hair and his hand was still smeared with drying blood.

‘You don’t have to look so embarrassed, lass. I was the one ignoring you. Your name?’

:Nalani Mahina, Null Maiden of the Frost Wolf cadre, Prosecutor squad, my lord,: she spelled out in clumsy Astartes hand-sign rather than one of the more nuanced, elegant, and quick hand-cants of her order.

‘Sister Nalani, Asny likes you quite a bit.’ He inclined his head to Asny slightly and she could read the conversation between them, wolf to wolf. _The leader of the pack gives respect to a new mother._ She’d heard his own wolf-brothers were almost always with him, but not now. Naturally. A human might seek out solitude where he could find it, but a wolf would see no excuse to intrude so close to a denning mother. If she got snappish and decided someone wanted to eat her pups, she would go instantly for the kill, not one of the bloodless dominance squabbles much more common between wolves and their own kind.

:I like her.: What was there to say?

People would talk about animals being ‘closer to nature’, but by and large they were less psychic than humans and largely indifferent to Mahina’s untouchable status.

‘She could take your head off in a single--’

:Yes, I’ve heard,: she signed sharply. Before she could think better of it, she changed the subject to, :What were you writing? I thought your folk didn’t.:

That she remembered being told by her superiors. If they don’t know hand-signs, get a novice. You can’t write the barbarians notes. This was obviously writing in an unfamiliar alphabet though. Maybe they only read their native language, not Terran Gothic, or maybe this was all a cover for the whole ongoing ideological divide in the Sisterhood between those who thought writing counted and only would use Orskade and those who didn’t.

‘We don’t. That’s different from can’t.’

:Why not? It’s so useful.:

‘It is for divination, not daily use. We know to be careful, unlike some people. To put a man’s name in runes is to trap his soul.’

That stank of witchcraft, to a Silent Sister, but mostly of silly superstition. She’d seen her own name in print after all, and in any case such decisions were well above her level of authority. :I, of all people, wouldn’t know, my lord.:

Russ laughed. She thought he sounded genuinely amused at the joke, but like he had not suddenly forgotten his own dark thoughts.

:What does it say? I can’t read it?:

‘No harm in repeating myself in Gothic runes so overused they’ve hardly any power in them.’

Mahina discovered after he casually cut his hand again and wrote that she now wished she could unknow it. She swallowed thickly, unsure what to say, and avoided any response whatsoever rather obviously. :So you do read standard Gothic too.:

‘I like people to think quite a number of things about me. Most of them are even true. It is often convenient to be thought stupid. That does not mean I didn’t learn the shapes of the foreign runes at a glance, even when I didn’t care to.’

Gene-enhanced superhuman and all, Mahina reminded herself. Stupid of her to have fallen for such things too. She thought about saying she knew it was nice to get underestimated. That way you could keep your own counsel with yourself. On the other hand, she’d never really, really wanted to say something to anyone and been inconvenienced by, in her case, her vows. She didn’t know what you said to that.

He changed the topic this time, before she could think of anything. ‘If you teach Asny’s puppies to be careful with you now, you’ll be able to get them to pull their punches when tussling with you when they’re bigger.’

:Am I allowed to?:

‘They’re not tame. If they will, it’s because they choose to. If they choose you, then they do.’

He shot her a pointed look that she couldn’t interpret. Appraising, maybe. If the eyes were the window to the soul, then she was working with a natural deficiency in that department. They were slightly more dilated then before, but she looked away to avoid making a dominance challenge, in the wolf way. The rest of his body language indicated he wasn’t quite making a threat, but this was by no means a promise of safety. Life was dangerous.

:Okay.:

‘Are they the pack you want at your side?’

:Yes.: Her hand moved without hesitation or forethought. :I like animals. I understand them. They hear me.: If she hadn’t been a null... but that was a pointless thing to think.

‘Then run with them. Don’t let anyone stop you, Sister Nalani.’ He turned to leave, sharing a few more silent words with Asny.

:Thank you, Wolf King! I won’t let you down.: To his retreating back, she added, :I’m sorry,: and thought he’d probably heard.

Mahina pet Asny for a bit, until the bells of the hours told her she had better get back to the mission or she was really going to get it. The Wolves always kept some Sisters around. If she was very diligent and respectful to her superiors and could show off how good she was at working with the wolves, the kind of thing these Space Marines respected, surely she could get permanently assigned to one of their expedition fleets.

Cheered, Mahina jogged the whole way back, thinking happy thoughts about a plan for the future and puppies and as little as possible about the words _Magnus listen please_ written in blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been writing her in an AU from someone else’s POV, and I really wanted to try Mahina’s own POV. Because she doesn’t talk everyone puts words in her mouth, and they are so obviously wrong as she gets increasingly sarcastic in her body language in response. Looks like outside the AU she still eventually ends up serving with the Wolves, but here she probably dies on Prospero.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tech-priest writes a letter to a friend, translated from Binary, while he inexplicably lives in a Charles Stross novel. (aka, I know you were supposed to have your emotion chip removed, but if you’re not as excited about science and the future as I am, what are you even doing here?)

Dear Cam-Cam,

We’re finally on Prospero and it’s great here! We’ve given all the Legion’s equipment an overhaul and are doing continuous quality monitoring, but basically we’re being left to our own devices since they’re just sitting around not breaking stuff. I have been getting so much research done, Omnissiah be thanked as our more superstitious cousins would say.

High Adept Zeth told me to scan every arcane text I could get my mechandrites on and I have been doing so. (This was before Nikaea, but she has not sent me new orders, and I am under the impression no one listened to a word there anyway, and by the Treaty of Mars and the Laws of Forge Independence, she’s the only person in the galaxy allowed to give me orders. For that matter, it’s not like I’m a psyker.)

Don’t worry: I’m being careful. It’s a good thing I’m not organic or it would be my brain I’d need to be swapping out, not individual microchips. The continuing flaw in our beta versions are that they require a conscious observer to collapse the quantum wave functions, and when you gaze into the void, it gazes into you. To be allegorical, microscopic Immaterial creatures are taking molecular bites out of any system the code’s run on--my hardware or the wetware of grey matter.

That’s only when things go right. Kayu ran a summoning grid with improper grounding and a code blue occurred. I don’t feel like copy-pasting the official report about Warp-pattern scramblers, so you get the lay version: there was raw Warp stuff glowing like writhing worms in his eyes and the things behind it ate the soul of everything his skin or electricity touched and we had to throw the circuit breakers and club him to death with a fire extinguisher.

We are being meticulously careful otherwise, I swear. So careful I swear to science that I’m considering tracking down the next small religious cult I hear anyone complaining about and getting them to declare me the patron saint of surge protectors.

The Thousand Sons are being very helpful. Their approach is very different, and it’s taking some work to explain what our mathemagical algorithms have to do with their sacrificing goats at midnight. Results are result, though. Eva and I have been running tens of thousands of simulation studies on transmutation circles they favour in order to optimise energy usage. I’m glad I upgraded my RAM before I left Mars or we would still be. Honestly, if I can convince them solid-state laser grids are better than chalk and protractors, I’ll count it as a win, let alone finding the exact optimal angle configuration for various operations.

Someone ran by me some more exotic diagrams for grounding some kind of huge working drawing power at one place and funnelling it into some sort of spooky action at a distance. I’m glad they’re getting comfortable enough with our work to troll, so I ran a lot of code and threw back some suggestions for raising efficiency so it would use fewer human sacrifices by five percent (give me a century and I’ll be able to do the whole thing with a hand-cogitator and some pigeons, I’m sure). I threw in a bunch of surge protectors and capacitors on the grid grounded here for if the distant working suddenly varies in the amount of energy it needs at any given moment, because I’m not a total moron.

Computational demonology aside, we’re putting together a joint tabletop campaign. Last game our characters found a mechanical dragon that once ate stars in its youth in the darkest corner of a labyrinthine dungeon. My rogue has profession: lumberjack and we’re getting way too much use out of that.

How are you getting on with the Iron Hands? Have you had as many awesome LAN parties as you predicted? Did you fix the network problems with your wireless or did you just install a bigger antenna in yourself? If you want a reassignment, you should definitely come to the Planet of the Nerds too.

My only complaint is the music scene. There’s definitely no audience for techno-metal here. On the other hand, I’ve been synthesising some local instruments and putting them together into a techno-jazz beat. I’m still testing it at amateur venues for tweaking before I get serious trying to land a gig. I’m at least getting remembered: not many people of the machine around with dreadlocks and bushy facial hair like mine on their organic components, though I’ve been using a bluer dye than what you’ll remember. The perfection of music continues to be mathematics’ best gift to mankind.

All the gang says ‘Hi, Camel’ too, or, alternatively, ‘Hi, Llama’. I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours,  
Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Mahina, seems like Green would also end up with the same Legion he did in the AU, doing about the same thing. Then die on Prospero. Dramatic irony abounds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philosophy and friendship for Khornate Berserkers.

It was already hard to remember whole minutes into the past because what had she been thinking? The frustration, the rage, the pain, what had she been doing letting that weigh her down? She’d wanted to scream, to cry, and now she laughed because she felt so light and free.

Everyone looked at her like she had snapped, which was true. Anja didn’t mind. Didn’t mind anything. What was there to mind? What mattered? Very little. Why had she worked so hard holding back? She was happy. Completely. There was no past. There was no future. There was only the moment. The vast majority of problems either didn’t matter or could be solved with sufficient violence.

‘Listen up, new plan!’ she roared over the sounds of their last frak grenades and of bolters drawing nearer. ‘With the heavy weaponry out, we can’t hold this position. The infantry needs to get out of here.’

‘We don’t retreat. We’re the Petran Freedmen of the 203rd Expeditionary fleet. Maybe other Army regiments are cowards, but we follow the World Eaters.’

‘I don’t care.’ This got her a lot more crazy looks. Anja was firm but polite unless someone was being too stupid to live; she didn’t snap at people. ‘Here’s what happens: you fall back, I hold them while you go. You live.’

‘Sarge, you’re good, but you’re not Space Marine good. A damn Astartes wouldn’t be that good that outnumbered. The hell are you thinking?’

‘Watch me. Get the frak out of my sight so I can kill everything that moves!’ What were they doing hanging around? Hurry up. She had things to do and they were going to be fun. She had no intention of holding herself back, differentiating between friend and foe once she got going, so hurry up and get gone so she could do that.

‘You never let anyone get left behind. The hell if we’d leave you, Sergeant.’

‘As your commanding officer, I order you to run. If you respect me at all, follow my last will. The tactics I’m about to try don’t work otherwise, then everything’s for nothing.’

Sergeant Hallkvist put a hand on Anja’s shoulder for a moment, then barked, ‘Fall back in good order. Let’s go.’

They moved slowly at first, reluctantly, acquiescing in ones and twos and starting off. There was no one was left alive that could have pulled rank on her instead.

Frida, her best corporal, was still hanging back. ‘Tactics, Sarge?’

‘I’ve been listening to those Word Bearer pansies. Finally figured out what they meant. Or something. Who cares?’

‘Taking up philosophy?’

‘Frak you. I’m not an idiot. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I die saving everyone, I’m a hero. I sell my soul to dark gods, sounds like kinda a villain thing. I would give up my life for my comrades but refuse to sacrifice my soul? No. Frak that.’

Anja shook her head. Now that she knew what she was going to do, she was impatient to get on with it. Holding still and just enduring was what she’d been doing for too long. She wanted to move.

‘I don’t see you sprinting the opposite way!’

‘This sounds like a bad idea, Sarge. You sure this’s gonna work? I’ve seen lots of people die praying. You really think you’re going to be the one desperate person who gets a miracle?’

‘Yeah. And if I’m wrong, then we all die anyway. So what?’

‘Hell if I know how to word an argument back to that. Seems like you shouldn’t haveta to do this.’

‘The world isn’t the way anyone would like it to be--it’s unfair, it’s cruel, and you know what? _Bad things happen to good people for no reason all the time!_ If we live in such a terrible universe that we should have to choose between all that we love in this material world and some promise of immortality, I don’t see why my soul is something so worth preserving. I won’t say this world doesn’t matter. I won’t be that selfish. Lots of people are damned through no fault of their own and they get nothing of value out of it.’

If Anja thought slowly, she thought thoroughly. Besides, it sounded fun. It sounded incredibly fun.

‘I’m going to fall to Khorne. Get out of here.’

‘You’re glowing.’

‘Run.’

‘If I ever see you again, I’ll shoot you.’

‘Thank you.’

When the primarch Angron had told her she wasn’t a slave anymore and didn’t have to ever guard another caravan against if she didn’t damn well please, that had been something. She’d signed up for the regiment right then. Fight for your friends, your brothers and sisters, he’d said, that’s what matters.

Her friends would live. Her hero would get the time he needed. She would get what she wanted. For that she would begrudge nothing, give her body and soul and still believe she was winning and who cared what happened after because all the hells ever made would be worth it.

No need to control the situation. No tactics. She was done with that. Kill everything. Hold back nothing. Enjoy it.

‘Khorne! I have never prayed to you before. I have no tongue for it. No one, not even you, will remember if we were good men or bad. Why we fought, or why we died. I ask one deal of you: give me power and I will give you blood!’

Anything for power. Anything. It was all she needed.

They were upon her, the Space Marines in blue. Anja grinned.

The hand that shot forward--rip, tear, rend--was black and clawed and sunk through ceramite to get at the flesh within. She had always been petite, delicate, but that just meant the easiest target for her chainaxe was straight through femurs. Even Astartes fell over like trees with their legs cut out from under them.

She could feel the impact of bolter shells like raindrops. She was distantly aware of pain, but it was as distant as the rage she had been feeling before. She laughed.

The sand ran with blood.

 

_Maybe she burned herself out in burst of light there and died permanently. Maybe Khorne has brought her back. He of all gods is most likely to leave dead anyone weak enough to die, but he may have taken a liking to her considering how far above herself she reached in those last moments._

_If I ever saw her again after that, I did not know her. Her single defining trait as a human being was how much she cared for her friends. If she lost that in the thrall of Khorne, she is simply no longer herself in any way that matters._

_Regimental legend holds that it was Guilliman himself who killed her that day, though I did not stick around long enough to watch. Certainly we lived through that day and our lord Angron ascended to Daemon Prince stature soon thereafter, so her life was all she asked of it._

_I found religion after that, and the remnants of the regiment stayed with Word Bearers’ fleet for the rest of the Heresy. I had a saint of my own and wanted to become the sort of articulate orator who could spread her words._

_Anja’s miracle was for us. Chaos cares for the individual._

\--excerpt from _The Little Book of Inspirational Tales_ by Frida Fjallberg, Champion of Chaos Undivided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anja manages to die in almost the same way as she did in the AU she’s originally from, besides minor details? Why did I even bother to write this? Anja, why are you Conan? I don’t even know that either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventures of the Dark Administratum, or, Maloghurst the Twisted’s secretary is really competent.

Theodora Thyella had a dataslate and an itemised schedule and was ready to conquer the galaxy. Again, but for the Warmaster this time.

Something like that. She was beginning to think being drunk before noon had not been the best life choice she’d ever made.

No one cared. With all the recent troubles, things were more disorderly than ever and she still was more competent than almost anyone else she had to deal with daily, but she felt like she’d be better equipped to deal with this situation without hitting her head against a wall if she’d been sober.

‘Goats.’

‘The ceremonies for summoning the aid of our allied powers in the Immaterium demand them, and we’re running low,’ Elit Lane explained again.

‘Weren’t they doing human sacrifice over there? I can get you more prisoners anytime.’

‘That too, but this is a different matter. You see, the power investment in violating the ancient taboo of...’

Theodora tuned out the next five minutes as she checked her messages, colour-coded the itinerary for tomorrow’s meeting about malfunctioning lumins, and considered exactly how she was going to track down every person who had installed bad chairs in a room she might someday use to turn them over to her boss’s torture squad.

‘That’s why it’s absolutely essential that we have a stock of goats to have sex with, then ritually kill.’

‘Thank you. That was informative. So you’re running low?’

‘We could hardly have predicted the two hundred percent escalation in VB-40 form submissions in the last quarter. Then Harold agreed to trade half our livestock to the 28th Expeditionary Fleet in exchange for crates of dehydrated field rations.

Much more efficient field rations, for every other purpose. ‘Give me one minute.’ She called up the most recent report she could find about rations available on the ship and paged through the sections on nutrient paste and its recycling to get to miscellaneous. ‘Will grox do?’

‘I am told they will suffice, but they’re an uncouth and low-class way to be running an operation.’

She snorted. ‘Tough. When we rendezvous with the next supply convoy, they can afford to be picky. Our allies on Mars might be diligent in making sure we continue to receive shipments of munitions, but everything else is disrupted. I can also offer you (delicious) silkworms and snails (no that probably wouldn’t work for your purposes), some columba birds and ducks, the piranha-sharks from water purification system (don’t you dare take all of them). Oh right, there are the ratting cats not on this list. Don’t take too many of them either or we’ll end up with a rat infestation everywhere and that would be unsanitary.’

‘Wait, we have cats to keep rats off our _spaceship_? Why don’t we have robots for that?’

‘That would be outrageously inefficient.’ Next thing you know someone would ask why they used sword in space instead of bombarding everything from orbit and had boarding parties instead of ships shooting at each other from astronomical units apart. That was why Theodora was in the newly-formed Munitorum, not a combat regiment. ‘Next on the agenda, Henrika. What do you have?’

Henrika looked back over the notes on her dataslate. ‘A full inventory of janitorial servitors reveals that--’

Lu Donel burst into the conference room, and Theodora could have kissed him, until she heard what he had to say. ‘Perturabo’s here two days early.’

‘Tell him to go home,’ Theodora said automatically.

‘Help!’

‘Excuse me, this requires my immediate attention.’

She made her escape and put some distance between herself and the committee. Locking herself in the nearest maintenance access room, Theodora switched over to the neural link the tech-adepts had set her up with for when typing was too slow. Everything swam into her vision at once.

:Jaza, how’s the bridge?:

:About how you’d expect. ‘I’m the Warmaster! Don’t come over here until I send for you! I don’t have time for this!’: Major Pierson reported back.

Theodora was already redirecting schedules, messaging people’s secretaries with memos to give them, drafting apology notes to half her contacts with the Iron Warriors and strongly worded letters to the other half about what happens when you don’t give people proper warning about the obvious consequences of their actions (not that hell or high water could _stop_ a primarch, but some courses of action could be presented to look more convenient and appealing than others).

Two bounced back messages hit her like an itch around her ear and she reread the send lines with a blink. No, no one would be passing on a warning to Torgaddon and Loken. ‘Lucky I didn’t write Sejanus too at this rate,’ she muttered to herself. The headache from using the neural link hit her as she turned it off and the hangover and the annoyance that the more helpful half of the Mournival in this sort of situation was unfortunately too busy being dead to be useful.

She’d done her duty, and was done here. That thought felt really, really good.

Carefully opening the door a slit to make sure no one was waiting to corner her about bolt round audits, she slipped out.

Glad she’d been working for him for the past thirty years, Theodora walked past her own desk and stuck her head into Maloghurst the Twisted’s office, which many people changed their route to avoid walking in front of, and said, ‘Mal, I updated your calendar with all the meetings with intelligence assets you told me to schedule. Apothecary Nippur wants to try on a new drug regiment on you, you have an appointment. I also sent you a bundle of allocations documents that need your attention after you’re done with Horus and Perturabo, a bundle that have been dealt with but you’ll want to give a read-over, and a list of the titles of reports I didn’t think were worth your attention.’

‘Very good. And?’

Nice to have an observant boss.

‘And I’m clocking out and going back to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow?’

‘You’re dismissed.’ He gave her a second look, his heavily scarred face shifting just a little into an expression she knew to identify as concern. ‘Get some sleep.’

‘Thank you.’

Theodora made her way back to the quarters in a daze. She took off her boots, put a blanket over her head, and thought that she should have gotten some water first but could not bring herself to move again even knowing she should.

She stared alternatively at the ceiling and the back of her eyelids for some time. She might have grabbed an hour of sleep in there, but she doubted it by the fact she didn’t remember waking up feeling worse.

She had been thinking the air filtration system was too loud, but that thought flew away when Trijata opened the door and turned on the illuminator as usual. Theodora groaned.

‘How was your day? Should I even bother asking?’

‘Seeing you makes it better.’

Trijata turned off the light and crawled under the blankets of their shared bunk as well. Theodora let her wife put an arm around her and leaned back against her.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘I’d rather hear about your day. You were complaining about the Word Bearers annoying you to. How’s that going?’

‘I know Chaplain Erebus saved the Warmaster and opened our eyes to how we were being misused, but I still wish the Word Bearers would go away. We’re here to stop the Emperor declaring himself a god, not get involved in badly worded religious conflict between their cult and another.’

‘Mm. Maloghurst said that at least it looked like you got all the pockets of the Emperor-worshipping cult from the battle-barge.’

‘I think so. Might still be some lying low who hold deviant beliefs but never practiced publically. The senior iterators left are talking about sending us around to other fleets to win over hearts and minds for the Warmaster.’

‘Don’t worry: I’ll do the paperwork myself and keep you here.’

‘Good. Too much is happening too fast for me to be willing to leave you alone for a minute.’

‘It’s not official yet, but Maloghurst’s been having me make up plans for allocating munitions for a big campaign. I think the rumours about us turning to Terra are true.’

‘The Warmaster hasn’t made an announcement yet, and even then, it could be a lie to throw off spies. Still, it’s believable whether it turns out true or not.’

‘We’ll have all the time in the world to get things in order after that.’ Theodora sighed. ‘Anything else?’

Trijata considered. ‘One of the apprentices brought up an argument just like one I had with my dad when I was ten or so. I miss him. And my mother and my brother. For that matter, I miss Sindermann. He used to remind me of Dad all the time and we’d had that discussion before. Back before his slow decided into insanity. He was never the same since, what, Sixty-Three-Nineteen?’

Theodora shrugged against her shoulder. ‘If you decide to turn traitor, tell me first thing so we’re not accidentally working at cross-purposes. You’re the one who cares about morals. Principles are all well and good, but I’m on the same side you’re on before anything else.’

‘I know, dear. I bet we could not report each other, cause a bunch of mayhem, then run for it, and it would be exciting. If we totally took leave of our senses and got bored of everything we believe. Let’s not.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Maloghurst’s actually a good boss? I’m as surprised as anyone else. I feel like I should be making a ‘How many Space Marines does it take to change a light bulb’ joke here. Answer: Zero. They have other people who do that sort of thing. Otherwise they would be sitting in dark, waiting for the light to miraculously come back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Slaaneshi mad scientist issues a letter of challenge to Fabius Bile.

It wasn’t too late, Avery reminded herself. It wouldn’t be too late for about ten minutes. She could change her mind at any point before then.

Ten minutes for her to still believe she could stop this. She could drop all her plans, go to Fulgrim, letting nothing stand in her way, and say ‘Don’t make the mistakes I did.’

Then she would be required to explain what those mistakes were and why she cared so very much about him in particular and the very thought caught in her throat and she was going to let everything go to hell wasn’t she because she couldn’t bring herself to face that. By all the dark gods, she hated herself.

She loved the sharp sensations of her own rage and despair and hated herself even more for getting off on it, and it was all one big, deepening feedback loop. Slaanesh laughed and fed.

‘Why did you call me here? What do you want? I’m a busy man.’

Avery let her attention shift to Fabius Bile. She was supposed to seduce him to Chaos, that was why she was here, even if she wasn’t usually of an evangelical bent. Mostly she had just wanted to get off Terra like she’d been meaning to since the Great Crusade began. It was going well, but she had decided she wanted him for herself. Despite the fog of inaction and guilt she was stuck in over other topics, this she would do and she would not regret.

‘Nice enhancements you’ve been managing. Maybe if someone decided to waste a thousand warm bodies on you, you might manage a single success with all your sadistic flailing around. And you call yourself a scientist!’

‘You’re Asenath, the remembrancer?’ he asked, as if the situation called for him to first make sure.

‘That I am. But my mother knew me as Avery, and what I am is a doctor, a scientist, and a beloved of the Prince of Pleasure.’

‘I don’t know what you’re babbling about, but I’ll kill you for the insult.’

‘I called you here to challenge you to a fight in the first place.’

‘Why?’ His obvious sheer bafflement at such an odd situation was keeping him from leaping into action. ‘What makes you believe you could possibly win? It’s not even going to be a fair fight.’

‘That’s true. You’re wearing armour and I’m not. If you want a fair fight, take that off.’ Would he take the bait? It would be harder if he didn’t.

‘It won’t be even then.’

‘I’ll still be smarter than you, it’s true.’

He growled. ‘I’ll rinse your blood off my bare hands rather than my armour then after I’ve crushed your skull in my grip.’

‘By all means,’ she said as he removed his armour. She in turn pulled her dress over her head and smiled. She was wearing nothing under it. ‘Let’s be even here.’

He looked even smugger now. She could see he’d begun to suspect she had a secret plan, but could contemptuously dismiss it as an attempt to beguile him with female flesh, which he was of course immune to. Exactly what she wanted him to think.

They squared off with the ceremony the Emperor’s Children used to turn even the most casual of spars into a formal, ritual duel. It was instinctive on his part; for her, it made everything feel too real. She had rehearsed this over and over in her mind, but now it was really happening.

They were actually going to fight. An Astartes warrior against her. She was barely trained, certainly not experienced. She suspected she could do this, thought it likely, but she had never _tried_ before and what a stupid way to die.

Avery was terrified. The hormones it sent racing through her blood made her shiver no different than excitement, but in her mind she panicked.

Was it too late to write it all off as a joke? Just a little humiliation and she could live; was her pride worth that much? It probably was too late, but she kept wanting to run for it and wanting to believe that she could.

 _Safety is a lie,_ she told herself. _Worlds burn, stars die. Those who take no action are swept away. The only question is if I am ready._ She ignored the voice screaming to her that the answer was no.

_If I loose, my patron will turn her back on me and I will deserve it. If I win, it will be by my own merit. What I have done will defeat the Emperor’s finest._

Bile moved first, reaching out to grab her, and she saw it like it was in slow motion. He wasn’t expecting her to be able to see him move at all let alone react to it, but he still had his muscle memory. That would expect movement from her to be ducking or flinching.

One bare foot landed atop his outstretched arm, while the other slammed into his face. She pushed herself back the opposite direction than her kick had sent him and returned to the ground lightly.

The expression on his face really was amazing. No normal, unenhanced human to break in the face of a stiff breeze she.

He was already moving again, punching upwards. She pulled back, then his other fist breezed her cheek coming around from another direction. Her foot flashed out to collapse his knee at the most vulnerable point and keep him off the offensive for a moment, but it didn’t break the ceramite bone.

She was faster, but not as much as she could have hoped. He was moving quicker than she had seen before in her observation. The servo-motors in power-armour meant it slowed him down very little, but the minute difference meant a lot here.

She couldn’t let it drag out. Beyond the fact she was on a schedule, the more it stretched, the more her lack of skill or experience would become obvious. She would lose.

She made for a punch to his throat, but only managed to scrape his shoulder with her nails and took a knee to the stomach for her efforts. She pushed him upwards and backwards, redirecting his weight to exactly where he was most off-balance.

He stumbled backwards but caught himself before he fell. She panted for breath, threw herself into the air, and smiled.

Avery stopped holding back her aura as tightly as she needed to to fade into a crowd and turned it on him.

She was beauty in motion. Her fight was a dance, her golden hair flowing after her. Her body was beautiful. Her strength was beautiful. Her fear was beautiful.

He had been contemptuous about her ability to inspire lust in him, he was a Space Marine after all and engineered to not feel such things. That had not been her plan so much as throwing him off-balance, but she was beloved of the Prince of Pleasure and blessed with his gifts after all. She fanned the fire of his hate, but also his lust. Just to see the look on his face as his body betrayed him with a flood of unfamiliar hormones.

Unfamiliar hormones...

Unfamiliar...

Fabius Bile hit the deck solidly.

Avery stepped out of the way and watched him for five seconds before approaching. She ran a nail down the side of his face, drawing another line of blood, as she looked into his pupils closely. This close, he could smell the sharp scent of unknown chemicals in her nail varnish. He was instinctively tempted to bite her. He was even more inclined to get up and kill her. His eyes were stuck open because he could barely blink.

‘I have to thank you for letting me in your apothecarium. It would have been so much more trouble to do my research if I hadn’t had a steady supply of badly-supervised, half-dead patients on hand. You Astartes are so fascinating.’

‘Nngh.’

‘I did tell you I was a trained medicae and knew how to stay out of the way of people doing work. The only thing I was lying about was wanting inspiration for my poetry.’

Honestly, poetry. The remembrancer program had seemed extremely attractive as a way to go on Crusade without having to bother with the annoyances of military life, even those of the medicae corps. Unfortunately, while she was Slaanesh’s, her own talents were towards science, not art. She’d finally decided poetry was a stupid subject that was all about ‘interpreting’ things in silly, made-up ways anyway, so she made up a fake identity and slept with a bunch of literary critics. Just analyse some existing poetry for most the common words and how phrases were put together and produce something that sounded deep, except that if you thought about it for a while, you’d eventually realise that it didn’t actually mean anything.

‘Rrggh.’

‘Can you still feel what finger I’m touching?’ she asked with one of his hands in hers. ‘Any movement at all? No?’ She put it back down and stamped on it, to the sharp crunch of ceramite. His eyes almost managed to roll shut and it was almost as difficult as trying to pick up and carry a Titan to pry them back open as she repeated the process on his other hand and feet, checking minutely for which muscles spasmed.

She grinned, all teeth, and sat down sideways on the edge of his chest. ‘Now, you might be wondering why I’m doing this. Partially because I wanted to do a full field test of some new compounds I’ve been synthesising. The reason I’m going to leave you alive is more complicated.

‘I’m better than you. I’m going to show up the Emperor himself someday. I didn’t just beat you: I humiliated you, as a scientist, fighter, and human being. Remember that. Hate me. Cherish your hate. Find an emotion so black and pure and yearning that hate itself would be too small a word to contain it. I want a rival to keep me sharp, and you’re the closest I’ve seen to being worth the effort of bothering with.’

She patted him on the cheek. ‘It’ll wear off in ten to fifteen more minutes. I didn’t calibrate closely enough to be sure. We’ll meet again, but not for a while I think.’

‘Grrrn.’

One last thing occurred to her. ‘And by the way, about the research problems you’re having, what kind of moron are you: dihydropyridine calcium channel blockers are clearly inhibiting ceramite uptake, the retrovirus substitutions you’re using to increase oolitic kidney function are messing with the src genes--stop using alpha-retroviruses and switch to an epsilon type, and specified psy-adherences don’t even have a biological component they’re purely Immaterial you can’t synthesise it--though it might be possible to crudely approximate the effect if you used naltron molecule sphere of DNA at super-low temperatures. You could probably also use that to... Anyway, figure out the rest yourself.’

Avery wasted three whole sections picking up the dress she’d dropped and letting the midnight blue fabric fall over her head. She felt no shame about the idea of running across the ship naked, but even as things teetered towards Slaanesh, at this point it would still attract attention and someone might try to stop her. She could overcome any resistance, her blood singing with victory she had no doubt of this, but she might miss her ride. No sense in that when she’d already worked out her timetable.

Still not too late.

Then she ran, skirt swirling around her knees. Cooped up on a ship, it had been a long time since she’d run. She missed the sky, had to fix that sometime. She’d still never been to any planets other than Terra.

She smiled, laughed, waved to people as she went, confused biometric scanners and waved faked credentials to soldiers who didn’t know her. Didn’t happen to run into any primarchs on the way to the nearest hangar.

‘Asenath?’ the pilot of the victuals bulk-hauler asked. He leaned back unconsciously towards her without taking his hands off the controls, his body addicted to her pheromones. ‘You sure cut that short. We’re scheduled to lift off in thirty seconds and the Navigator’s been bugging me to start the airlock decompression already.’

‘Sorry,’ she said with a kiss on his cheek. She couldn’t remember his name. Whatever. ‘Last-minute thing. Let’s get going.’

She stood over his shoulder, watching intently as their departure proceeded routinely. Occasionally she made to snuggle with him to have an excuse for hanging around, only to have him push her away long-sufferingly to concentrate on his job, which suited her just fine.

She watched the _Pride of the Emperor_ as it faded into a fainter and fainter speck against the blackness of space. Took in every last glint of it for the last time as they transitioned into the Empyrean.

It was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avery subsequently goes on to a long and successful career as a freelance mad scientist and occasional warband leader, as well as carrying on a fulfilling kismesissitude with Fabius Bile and becoming a much more mature, composed, and self-assured grown-up. It turns out not everyone get the short end of the stick. There must be stick leftover somewhere for someone to get the long end of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siress Callidus and Sire Culexus discuss Mars. Spoilers for _Mechanicum_ and possibly some for _Nemesis_ , but mostly in a ‘established canon for the past decade’ sort of way.

Black robes and cloaks were all well and good for formal situations, but they tended to be somewhat noticeable everywhere outside of the secret conclaves in the Shrouds.

Melpomene was a trendy young student today, sipping at overpriced green tea that was only so-so and picking at a muffin that was unabashedly terrible. They’d never been here before, would never come again, and she’d never recommend it to anyone. Ophion knew which table to sit down at, looking like any day labourer from the Hy-Brasil hive himself.

‘What’s so important you had to meet in person?’ He didn’t bother to keep his voice down, to act furtive. One would think he simply didn’t care if he was overheard because nothing he had to say would be of interest to anyone else. The few people who had been sitting nearby had felt the sudden urge to finish their drinks quickly and leave from the time he’d come close.

His sister cut straight to the point. ‘Why did you pull all your boys off Mars?’

‘None of your business. It’s an internal matter.’

‘I agree your special talents have better use elsewhere, but I sent a mission of Sisters into the civil war and they disappeared without a trace. I need to know what I’m sending my kids into.’

‘It’s irrelevant to anyone who doesn’t have the gene.’

‘Thank you for that one scrap. In case you’ve forgotten, it’s recessive and some of us are carriers.’

He had the decency to look embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I forgot. Don’t go in person, Mel, even for a chance at the Fabricator-General himself.’

‘Fine, I won’t. Guess that saves me the annoyance of adhering metal to half my body. Are you going to tell?’

‘Give me some information of equal value first.’

She considered. ‘The Grand Master is the Sigillite.’

Ophion choked on his recaff. ‘Now you’re just kidding with me.’

‘Respect that there’s no one better than I am at taking in every little detail of mannerism and body language. I couldn’t mimic if I couldn’t see. No one can disguise themselves well enough I can’t see through it.’

‘He’s never flinched away from me.’

‘Some people have good self-control. I’ve seen him near Sisters in the Palace.’

‘I’m not sure I believe you, but the idea makes more sense the more I think about it. He does seem like the practical type among all those “military honour” sorts.’

‘Try to act surprised if you ever have reason to. Your side of the deal?’

‘There’s a cosmic horror in the Noctis Labyrinthus that subverts any pariah that gets too close to it.’

‘And you say I’m being unbelievable.’

‘I didn’t say I understand the situation. I’m pulling everyone out because I don’t want to deal with it. I’d rather send my boys to do cleanup on Prospero in comparison.’

‘You’re serious.’

‘Stay out of it, Mel. Not just personally, at all. There’s a woman there that scared the living daylights out of every last asset I got back and left them convinced this is not our business. Clades are a single purpose tool. We might as well pretend to be Astartes or arbites as intrude on the Guardian of the Labyrinth.’

‘Fine.’ She brooded over her muffin for a minute. ‘Mum says you never visit.’

‘Mum and I have never gone ten minutes without having a row.’

‘She still complains.’

‘Does she complain you never wear your face?’

‘Admittedly, she complains about everything. Make an appearance, Ophi. Please? I’m tired of the same old litany.’

‘You want a change of nagging. “Oh, you’re good at your job, but you’re still not married.”’

She got a sour look on her current face. ‘“Gee Mum, I’m sorry I was too busy being the best at my job ever and founding an institution that’s now a pillar of the Imperium to give you grandkids.”’

‘You’re the one who told her you became a circus performer. She thinks I’m an accountant.’

‘Some of us have more imagination than to use the most clichéd excuse ever.’

He let the silence drag for a while. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Good enough.’

The two anonymous people took their leave and no one else who had been there had taken any notice of them or remembered any overheard conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My totally pointless headcanon is that the Culexus have a really skewed male-female ratio compared to other clades because almost all the female untouchables get snatched up by the Sister of Silence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khur: Things actually aren’t that bad. On a scale of Exterminatus to all other possible responses to a situation.

‘I can’t write this speech. Can’t. Someone else should do it. I have nothing to say that I can say.’

‘You give speeches all the time,’ Warda’s husband reminded her.

‘No, I speak in public all the time. Which is to say, I give instructions to people in groups in between giving them individually. Extremely practical instructions. A speech implies abstract thought, possibly even looking at the big picture.’

‘I’ve never known you to make morale worse.’

‘Because I don’t say the sorts of things they’re asking me to say! I tell people to shut up and go work on the habblock construction or weeding or digging latrines. No one wants to hear my opinions.’

‘I do.’

‘That’s different.’

‘No, really, what would you say if it were just me?’

Warda glared at Aali. ‘I would start by saying: “Things really aren’t that bad.” I feel like a bad person just thinking that.’

‘It’s been better.’

‘On the scale of a planet, we are slightly inconvenienced. If they were actually trying to kill us, they could have ignited the atmosphere. Or gone after the agricultural region. So five cities were destroyed. Planets are really, really big. The food is still there. Most of the clean water sources are still there. We didn’t even lose much heavy industry, because we moved the pollution away from our population centres centuries ago. The only problem was the breakdown of the infrastructure to get them to people. That hasn’t even been that bad since we got organised enough to reroute the automated shipments that would have been going to market in the cities to refugee camps.’

‘You could talk about that. All these strides forward we’ve taken to restoring order and social services. The resettling of refugees in newly built habs everywhere else. People moving on and living new lives.’

‘You do it.’

‘You’re the mayor.’

‘The mayor of can town.’ She turned her back on him to look out the hole in the wall of their aluminium shanty-shelter that served as a window, just in case everything had disappeared while she wasn’t looking at it. ‘It’s just a bluff. Act like you’re in charge and people will treat you like you are. Act like social order is still in place and people will go along with it. People want normality, so pretend it’s possible and they’ll grab the chance. Well, it helps that most people who went completely unhinged ran off to the hills to chew their own legs off or are still staring blankly at walls.’

‘You don’t have mention that. You’re only putting things in the worst way possible because you’re being contrary.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Didn’t you learn these things in seminary?’

‘Inquisitor, not preacher.’ Ex-inquisitor. Very ex. People called her ‘Mayor’ these days instead of any other title, which was very, very good for her continued not snapping and yelling ‘All gods are sadistic bastards!’ in public, possibly while standing on a hill during a thunderstorm.

‘Still, no one’s asking for you to say anything that will go down in the history books as the best speech ever. If everyone ends up very bored while you talk about civil engineering problems, there’s not going to be a riot.’

‘I know.’ She searched for words, eventually sat down and put her face in her hands. ‘We have lots of problems that are extremely solvable. Then we have the fact that the ideological underpinnings of our entire society are gone. The ecclesiastic leadership either died in the bombardments or the lynch mobs, and we’ve been locking up or shooting any street preacher “inciting riots”. What are we doing? Where are we going? I’m just part of a cabal of middle managers, event organisers, and construction works pretending to be in charge with a message of “Sit down and shut up, regular service will be returning soon.” It’s not about logistics and supply, it’s about way of life and the entire soul of our people, and I’ve been avoiding that in any way, shape, or form like the plague.’

‘Either become a prophet, let anyone else become one, or acknowledge that you can’t control the future of grassroots-level social attitude,’ Aali said as unsympathetically as possible. ‘I have no idea what will happen without charismatic leadership either. The chapels are nearly empty these days. Is this tribulation to test our faith, where we must stand strong against the unbelievers? Is this a punishment we deserved for our sins? Everyone’s heard it and no one’s satisfied. The foreign iterators are more popular, because they only talk about how men should live now, while the past has dissolved into a vague nostalgic benediction “May you find the peace of the previous world.” You’re more popular, because you get things done.’

‘I wish I could move hearts and minds, but I don’t even know what I want.’ Warda could still remember vividly what she thought of as her last worldly desire. Soraya, her daughter, her only child, newly married, shot dead in the riots. She had thought she would kill every person in the galaxy for the sake of the false-angel who had killed her daughter eventually being on that casualty list. It had struck her she was completely and totally physically incapable of that, no matter what she did. She had looked through the blue angels like they weren’t even there and found an amplivox to start reciting instructions in the street for how much water every person should be carrying before they left and blankets and...

She still couldn’t bring herself to feel much of anything around the gaping emptiness. ‘I’ll summarise one of Arym Rosso’s reports. Never mind. I have nothing to say about what anyone should believe in.’

 

_St. Warda Vega is attributed with ending the riots and restoring public order, infused with the holy light of the Emperor, after an attack on her homeplanet Khur by heretical Word Bearers during the Horus Heresy. She was sainted by Ecclesiarch Equitus II in 612.M34. Her remains can be found at the Shrine of the Blessed Dead in the Monarchia Wastes on Khur._

\--excerpt from _An Encyclopaedia of Imperial Saints and Heroes_ , edition six, published 413.M37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up spending the whole time writing up this dredging up memories of Hurricane Katrina, and all the things going on around me while I was busy being a teenager living in or around Dallas back then.
> 
> Meanwhile, even more Homestuck references than usual. The mail is sacred, and sacred is the trust between the Post Man and the recipients of his precious parcels. You have made a solemn pledge to deliver this letter, just as soon as you determine where this address is, or find any sort of discernible mailing address in this wasteland, for that matter. The mail is freedom. The mail is life. The mail is the very fabric of civilization. All you want to do is deliver mail. You do not want to be the stupid queen. And you do not want to wear this stupid mailbox crown.


End file.
